Friday, May 17, 2019


Got to spend this past weekend in nature with my girl,
joined by
who have lifted us up year after year,
with encouraging words and laughs and listens ~
And in this special garden,
where breathy warmth radiates from overgrown grass,
and the sun coaxes my city-knots out,
find myself
at home.

This is a dreamscape I get lost in,
discreetly dressed with its filigree nests,
quiet giants wearing branches like capes,
where flowers show up as though someone called "places",
and the air a sweet combination of it all -
comfortably still and other times moved in careless breezes.

My happiest moments are watching my
free in this landscape
parked in a camping chair on our dirt drive, wading in a creek,
or off to trudge through last year's goldenrod to perch in the sun
survey the land -
A Pioneer out for an afternoon trek
with a snack, a book and important random items.

How I love being her mother.

How she got this way,
I just don't know.
Cause I've been watching, studying and reluctantly loosening my everyday embraces
but last time I looked, really looked,
I couldn't envision her older self, once she
her crib.

But here She is,
this lovely creature,
who takes her space
and lives bravely outloud
electric with change and song and opinion
drinking in the details of growing up
tackling its glories
while deeply pondering its unimaginable
and just-not-right
very dark

In This Place,
I like to think
she's safe to feel it all,
because this is where
winds don't judge,
the sky stays high
and everything
just goes
to the tune

Last time we were here there was a perfect nest of blue-green eggs,
and this time birds have taking their place,
fresh in the world with their eyes still shut.
Their mom rarely budges
from her
She too has that vulnerable love
of nurturing her babes and
guarding them,
boldly, beneath her wings.

One day, though,
they'll all
on Taking Flight -
but for now,
as long as
can last,
we're both still reaching
to keep them close.

Friday, February 16, 2018

And Again

These days it feels like the worst kind of tag
where every move feels like we've just 
dodged a bullet
my shoulders having barely just 
squeaked by,
a sigh 
of "happened-upon" momentary relief
relishing that strange feeling of narrow escape - 
Was that what it was?
Narrow escape?

Have we been in the shadows of danger close by?


No longer like when you 
used to reach
home base
placed your hand on the tree
excitedly linked arms in a spirited human chain 
or found the perfect hiding spot
quietly yet excitedly out of breath,


No, that's not it

So many parents yet again just lost their
No second chance to hug the babe they once held
To butter their toast
Zip their coat
Take their phone
Cheer them on
Smooth their hair
Kiss their cheeks
Sign them up
Tuck them in
Meet their eyes

Love with a wave.

And for those of us still blessed to have ours...
Drop off hasn't been the same for some time - 
we're still in the 
because that's 

These days we kiss them off 
as they skip into schools
run on blacktops
play learn thrive in
other home... 

But now we have day-aches
and night-aches
fearing what might come
harboring our secret fears that we cannot share with our children.
We send them off to spread their wings
and hope 
the sun.

Some days I just can't take
the break I feel for others...

And the monsters who boss with their never-ending
gloat and pray 
issue plastic apologies
rub their selfishness like mud in our faces -
don't care one bit
their cores rotten
hollow and foul.

This is a country
and I doubt we'll ever
the shore.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017


Tomorrow is my last hair appointment with my current hairdresser.

I met her shortly before Alan passed away.
Can't remember what she knew about his illness,
just remember returning to her shortly after, and he was

My mom came along, I was afraid to be alone,
afraid to be in a place where talk abounds -
the spinning chair like therapy or the back seat of a car for a child,
faces in the mirror but meditative, thoughtful conversation.
It's a strange ritual, words to the sound of scissors whittling,
paring things down artfully as part of us is shed.

That morning I can't remember much.
The anticipation of being in public,
the anxiety that consumes
when you feel as though your face says it all.
He's gone, my partner died,
he is dead.
People will see my face.  They will know.
They will wonder.
And the fear that if my mouth opened
there could be no words -
but a waterfall
of sobs poised at the top of my throat, ready to
cascade beneath the discards
as they floated to the ground.

She came to greet us, we were on a padded bench,
not sure what we said,
but know what must have been said.
It was quiet that day.
Sad silence but she made it ok.

Since then she has been through the anticipation and birth
of my girl.
She has done my hair regularly,
I breast fed under her wraps,
she has trimmed Lily's bangs, given her an 8 year old streak,
I have sent dear friends to her,
I have met her husband.
I know of her family, her musical and literary loves,
her food obsessions, her fasts, her yoga pursuits.
She has been a striking force of positivity
and has been with me through my parenting endeavors,
my travels, my milestones.
She has met Adam,
she has been
A removed fixture yet reliably present, I have never seen her outside of our appointments.
But she still has been the old friend you resume conversations with,
despite the lapse between visits.

She is off to a new, tropical home,
where I know the warm winds will envelop her with comfort and right-ness.
She will be well, her man will be fine,
and I will send her off with a Patti Smith book
so that she may bring an account of New York's most raw, most lyrical ruminations with her.
Those words can always be a comfort on the crests of waves,
amid the stillness of heavily fragrant air.

And I will move on, close this book,
and be grateful for what we shared, in our own, subtle way.

It is strange to say goodbye to people who
Knew You When
and Know You Now,
she's been a touchstone in my recovery.
And now off she goes on a new journey,
leaving behind a well tended garden.

Monday, June 26, 2017


Made it to One and it's an anniversary I don't take lightly -
Years ago I had plans for my first anniversary with Alan.
I had hoped to have a dinner party with our closest friends where we'd serve the same food that he and I, in our wedding excitement,
barely got to taste.

Longevity Noodles would have been prominently featured.

But the meaning behind those, proved not to work.
Though if one were to count a legacy of love as an offshoot,
they certainly did.

Now that I've reached the official end of one, with Adam,
I am still counting my blessings.
It is an action that never tires.
I tell him I even love being in traffic with him
It is all the moments I cherish.
The every and in-between moments.
And I forever feel fortunate that our lives reconnected - so that we could continue on, in life,

This anniversary, the two of us shared a beautiful meal.
We spent our weekend together in nature and savored our time in warm porch sun,
in some funky junky bohemian inn overflowing with dishes and instruments,
old furniture and other peoples' discards - juke box rock wafting through open panes,
air, river and hills.
It all reminded,  in the sweetest of ways,
how lucky I am to have enough.
Of love
Of children
Of friends.

Markers and milestones wear out the widowed.
But what I've discovered is that real love doesn't compete.
Doesn't have to. What's real is real is real.
There is room enough,
love enough,
for everyone.

As I approach nine years without Alan, here, his presence still shines.
In dreams, through Lily and people encounters that still crop up
and bring favorite stories and memories to light.
And every new story is like finding a photo -
Comforting even from a suspended distance.

Felt right to be surrounded by old things with my new love.
Reminded me how solid a memory can be even in the glow of fresh, afternoon sun.
Together Adam and I are building our own story and I hope the pages have no back cover.
I think when I marveled at how heavy and sound the floors there felt,
I was reassured to feel planted and rooted in ...  now.
The house was solid
and filled
with any-time.
Plenty of room for all of it,

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Girl Song.

This morning I asked my daughter to eat her breakfast
seven times.
I was angry and rushed and frustrated,
and am always bothered by her non-urgency when we have places to go.

But I'm the one who always tells her to be in the moment.

And this morning, when I entered the room with my EIGHTH plea,
there she was, singing Kumbaya, clapping,
toe-tapping and topless,
in front of her hamster's cage.

On plea seven, she had actually had a shirt on,
but somewhere in the after-moments...
her mind took a turn,
and new options had been put on hold.
For a song.

I yelled.
Not proud, but I did.
Her teacher says asking once should be enough.

Not in our home.
But even with my frustration there was
another thread,
that made my own heart sing.

When I reminded her of that concept on our way to the subway,
of once being enough,
she was looking way up.

OK mama, she said, eyes still on the sky.

Did you hear what I actually asked?

Yes mama.  The seatbelt light just went on in that plane Mama.

And so it went.

There is nothing I love more than the
voice - anytime.
But particularly
in the morning.
She sings and sings and sings.
In the shower,
in the bathroom,
to the mirror,
when she is sidetracked between drawers of clothing yet to be decided on,
sings as she brushes and ties and packs and unpacks.
I love her wonderment and whimsy.
Her loose energy that floats into our world at inopportune times.

Need more of it myself.

Think it's why I haven't written.
Been so much and nothing to say.
I let some hideous person permeate my life.
Way Too Much.

Got to get back on track.
Slip into her mind for a bit
to focus on the
Let my mind go back a bit,
cause this girl's looking at her days the way she should.
Will need to play this for her, tonight...

Monday, October 17, 2016


That... man?
he can undo what I / we have done.
I know women,
lots of them.
Who get up every morning, feed, bathe, dress and drop their kids,
dash to work to enable them to do all they did in the hours before.
We are smart, brash, bold, defiant.
And yet that trip to work is often a slog
through hideous leers
you can feel their eyes, just as Bruce says,
take a walk all over you -
And it
So many times I've been told to "smile" -
whether I was rushing to be on time for work or
frantically hustling back to my husband who was battling a life threatening illness in a hospital.
Been abused in ways too cliche to share.
They didn't know
didn't care
about who I was,
just wanted something for themselves to
feel good about,
be on top of,
to push around,
their feral bodies aching for a moment of thrill
before they turn to the next woman
or girl…  My Girl?
who walks on by.

And now I've got two more girls,
Young Women
Who are just stepping into their own bodies
Discovering the powers of their prowess
and teetering on the brink of discovering how they
may or may not use them,
flirting dangerously with all that we've struggled to

When I hear our First Lady
I am grateful to see a Woman who I can point to and say
SHE is what we're all talking about
and illustrates what we're so fearful of losing ~
She is our minds our bodies our intelligence.
Stay with her, follow that path
of self respect, strength and
And we have a Presidential Candidate who
has waded through the mud slung by men and women -
been subjected to their superficial judgements about her voice, her clothing, the slips she's made -
she has been mocked relentlessly for her imperfections and still fights back.
She too is a force.
No stares, no bullying nor disrespect have stood in her way -
She's worked tirelessly
to get where she is,

New Heros in hard times.

It is reassuring that last week a Poet
was honored
because we may be on the cusp of a very
Dark Age.

If only Art could save us.

How surprising, and refreshing to know  - that a committee of powerful thinkers
is celebrating an artist
who has illuminated hardships, wrong-ness, love and loss -
so decently, thoughtfully and passionately.
He will forever strike me as a romantic and a realist -
with his ruminations on war, peace, and relationships.
He has moved so many with his humanity.
I will never forget the feeling of sitting by a beach fire
blazing on a clear and cold summer night,
meditating on his words as they wafted through the crowd around me.
The message clear and empowering, even then to us as kids:
We know
looks like.

May these Three
and all of Us
Outshine the ugliness that is sweeping in,
hovering like smog,
and threatening to choke our children.

Our world is way too precious. (Listen)

Thursday, October 6, 2016


Made it.

Summer's moved out,
with a giant
And we got

So many hearts to take care of in the moments
leading up...
I was worried,
so worried,
anxious and protective.
Tired, excited and nervous.

Children to handle gently,
in-laws to watch over,
new family to embrace,
old friends and my family who've been through our "all"
and kept eyes on me closely
these past eight years...
So many hearts to look after,
not to mention
my own.

But how lucky we were - Lily and I
to have Alan's family there to bravely cheer us on
as we ushered Adam's in.
And how fortunate we were - Lily and I
to have Adam's family there,
alongside Alan's
embracing this connection
and honoring its link.

Not easy for anyone,
but this crowd,

So on that fair evening,
under redwoods and pines,
we got to join hands,

all of us.

Everything and everyone was fine.

And now as autumn breezes in,
casting shadows that linger and shorten our days,
I can look back and
how far we've come,
and relish the
second chance.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Where you been

Hello Emotions,
shadows big and small, all nipping at my feet, 
tugging at my heart and sometimes hijacking joys that should be all mine.
But that's the brand of widow world, 
not the image, just the scar
never fully
smooths over.
The color just never fully sets. 
Like an unfinished project that will never be complete - 
and this one's not due to any procrastination - it's just due to 
twists and turns.
Unsolicited and solicited.
The good with the bad,
happiness with the sad,
because when you lose partner number one,
it takes its toll on round two.


So here I am, 
on the threshold of a new chapter
embracing beautiful and Whole New Love
trying as best I can to be the step that his kids 
can ...  accept.  And understand.
Trying to comfort my girl as she navigates and embraces all of her steps - but mourns
the loss of what she-and-I-were for the years before 
And grappling with who I am as I link arms and hearts with another partner,
and understanding that as I move forward, my past, remains unchanged.

It is hard not ever being fully in control.
And here comes Father's Day.
A hurdle that never lowers in height.


is all about accepting what comes your way,
moving within, around, alongside and beyond ....
Lessons more easily taught to an Almost Second Grader.
Constant practice of what I preach.
Days ago I cried as I ordered morning coffee,
felt so teen in my middle aged body.
Had to excuse myself to the bakery bathroom 
to get a grip 
on all that's brought me to 

(Surely Alan was cuing the violins, 
in the 

And then I am alright again.
Like a reggae song with an easy groove,
and Adam always feels just right.
Grateful for a new man to be in love with and to be loved by,
Grateful to have a child who's never said no to this giant change.
Grateful for the children he too is raising,  
Because I am, indeed, joyful - 
and excited to look forward to all that lights the path

Can't ever know what force it was, that led us to reconnect
in this Circle Game...
But it is another Good Beginning,
for both of us,
so all together

Friday, March 11, 2016

Feeling Good.


Never guessed never dreamed those words
would come out of my mouth

Still feels like a daydream, stuns my senses
despite how right it feels.
When I peek at rings it still feels like I need to explain
I'm a widow, but I'm getting married,
not sure if I deserve the ring, or if it's right,
because I have one,
I mean, had one, but but but...
But this is New Love
and a new start -
so that sweet stone, that my grandfather saved up for,
now sits in a drawer
for his great granddaughter's hand -
to use when she is graced with
Another's Love.

But I will always be a widow -
I will.
And I don't mind the label ~
Reminds me of where I've been
and has forever shaped the woman I am
and who I will continue to be.
And it's introduced me to a crowd,
yes crowd,
of powerhouse women - who have rejoined this world like
with fierce and proud and poignant memories of all that came

And as I walk on, with Lily by my side,
we will forever be a deeply connected duo.
To think she's just turned seven...
She's come so far from that Friday dawn
when she entered this world
breathing life into mine.

She brought me back,
led the way.
Threw me over her shoulder and hauled me with
oblivious ease
through nights and mornings and feedings and swings,
walks and grass, bandaids and rain,
first days and lessons,
milestones and anniversaries, Father's Days and Mother's Days.

Remarkable what one little person can do,
just as her school song says.

This morning I savored how she held my hand
a little-kid-lapse in her crusade to grow up.
Signaled me with our Secret Squeeze,
reminding me of how we will always be

So together we're embracing our new(ish) family,
she loves her soon-to-be Steps,
she loves her second dad,
and I love them all and how they
so openly
allow us
their world.
It is as though, somehow, we've won the lottery,
despite the landmark crater in my heart,
and the wanting hole in hers...
As a friend reminded me just today,
we must see that it is not happiness that makes us grateful,
but gratefulness that makes us happy.

When I hear Lily laugh with them
it is the
to my

We are grateful.
We are happy.

Friday, December 4, 2015

Bleecker Street

Not quite sure
…  How
I might explain
The List
of names from yesterday's loss
to an almost seven year old girl, today.
Conversation so layered and loaded
and we've only just discussed families with nowhere to go, 
bad choices made to hurt people,
pollution in China, 
a vanishing island and 
Japanese internment.

She can read now.

And then I see 
Today's Names.
Like rings on a tree, 
each life was a generation -
and they all represented the soul of a country we are lucky


Johnson, Bet-badal, Godoy, Amanios, Kaufman, Bowman,
Velasco, Clayborn, Adams, Thalasinos, 
Nguyen, Espinoza, Meins, Wetzel

There They Are, Lily.  
Do you hear the sounds in their names?
see the sneaky consonants, 
the tricky vowel combinations -
Take a good look at all those names,
they celebrate heritage, harbor hope,
color our world 
and tell us how so many families,
like ours,
most likely all started 


What is there to destroy in those
Rainbow Names?

She is studying community.
The word rolls off her lips with pride,
hits the T with hear-me aplomb
she is only just seeing its beauty
for the very
first time.

I will someday have to talk this through with her,
though I hope it's not tomorrow.
She's taking in our
one thought at a time.
But her shoulders are small,
and she loves her Village.

Fog's sure to lift, 
soon enough.  
But for now, (shhhh….)...

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Fall / Time.

Just recently I went to a Bar Mitzvah,
For the son of an old friend.
I marveled at how this college comrade had grown him.
I could still see her across a cafe table,
over a pot of tea, an Apricot Jewel on a plate between us,
and art history notes scattered before us...
She had waited for this day.
Pretty soon this will be Lily, she smiled,
and then returned to her coming-of-age creation.

It's these rituals that tug at me,
deep within my chest.
Always happens in sacred places
the beauty almost too much for me to bear.
The voices soft yet strong - finding home amid
stenciled walls, onion domes, Eastern patterns,
dangling, stately lights.
And as we move through the hour,
all I can do is keep the ache in my throat
frozen at bay
for fear if I exhale
out will come
the sobs,
the surrendering slouch
of a person still grappling with the

And while I don't long for this particular ritual for Lily,
I am envious of the opportunity it offers -
the ceremonial invitation into adulthood
the acknowledgement of how far they have come,
the opportunity to celebrate the strides they have taken
every day of their young lives, until this point.

Shouldn't they all be commended for their
arrival and survival?

I search the ceilings for answers.

Growing up is no small feat.

This place is part of our culture and reminds us of some of our roots,
though I am a believer in many spirits - not just One.
But when I see the rabbi place her hands on a gently bowed head
and hear the whispered murmurings between them,
it is Alan I see
with his hands on
Our Girl
and I imagine what she will look like
when she reaches that age.
I can see her head bent, dark downcast eyes,
I see bangs and length,
soft cheeks and awkward grace.

Surely she would listen, quietly, to his affirming words.

It is these life moments
that strangle my gut...
and thrust me into "how will I do this" mode -
without her Dad to help me guide her.

But sure enough, he showed up that morning,
in the form of another old friend's encompassing and gentle warm hand,
that reached for me toward the end of the service.

It's okay, Sus, he said through her touch -
It's okay.

All I could do to keep my heart steady,
was look up at the patterns,
to keep the tears from spilling.

But then they closed with one of my favorites,
a relief to hear,
it loosened the Hold
and sent me on my way.

This version, my all-time favorite:  Turn Turn Turn


Friday, October 2, 2015

She's a Rainbow

it feels
has happened, in our
Teenage Explosions that shower
all around me
and the heat of it all
melts my resolve
and then rushes on

Such power
She has,
in her six year old frame
the anger and frustration with nowhere to go but

over to my corner
where I brace myself
against nothing but
hope and the spine that used to keep me so
and ready
for anything

And then I have conversations,
in my mind,
with Alan -
and while he tells me she's just grappling
and struggling and missing and longing,
I tell him it feels like
she's thinking it's my fault,
she's mad at me that
I could go away

I think she'd like a
to get
Then maybe we'd see more
of her
cooler colors.

Friday, September 4, 2015

For A & A

An acquaintance just got married...
Don't know her well,
but in some ways, I might know her more than most.
She's widowed, with a little girl.
Lost her first man in a similar battle.
She found me, years ago,
long distance, as we survivors tend to do.
There is something special when you walk similar paths -
you share thoughts knowingly,
and ponder similar questions.
You share the same secret fears,
discuss challenges without concern of uninformed judgement,
and contemplate hopes that seem so far off.

But she got there.

And just the other day, I caught her -
smiling on Facebook, with her girl under her arm.
Both in their wedding best -
beautiful in its non-pomp -
because this was a different celebration.
The continuation of a journey but an
arrived at destination -
There was a look in her eyes that said it all
I have loved, been loved, am loved and continue to find love
and in those same eyes was a look I know so well.
They announced ease and comfort,
a firmly rooted stillness,
and a reflection that gracefully acknowledged
what they had been through,
what she had endured
and the heartache she will forever feel,
in moments that flash between sips of coffee,
or fly by with a turn of her daughter's head.

But the beauty that she displays
is the image
we all
hope for.

We women are strong,
and this one,
this friend, and her pint-sized life companion,
deserve all that she has found
so thoughtfully for
Some Mom.
Some Partner.
Some Woman.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015


Never knew
I'd find love again,
never thought
it'd happen like this.

Seven years ago
away went the dreams
the union,
the lives
had hoped for,
had planned.

Except for One.
She stuck with me, and together, we forge
Intrepid Life Explorers
new territory,
And now, with Adam,
come Three More
makes me smile as I write
she and I.

Yes.  Please.

Love the company, the play,
the backseat singing,
the take turn arguing,
the no-tech bartering,
the can't sleep annoying,
the mealtime talking,
the hotels and motels,
lakes and pools,
happy laughing,
together adventuring,
ice-cream dripping
and aunts and uncles and grandparent sharing.

Oh The Sleep -
when they're all
It is then that I feel family,
stronger than ever
and know that though
Lily and I are
there's always room

Monday, June 22, 2015

Fly Away.

Summer's come.
Swept my girl out Kindergarten's door.
A year of words and books and ducks,
apples, weavings, workbooks and risks.

First Grade is hovering,
and Wednesday's morning found me
standing on the sidewalk,
eyes blurred by motherhood stun.
Left me holding a clay bird's nest -
resting cool and heavy,
in my hands.
My grasp fit her fingerprint grooves so well -
how grateful I was to share the mold..
A final holdout from
The Early Years.

We wrapped with a camping trip, her first sleep outdoors - 
in a tent I last used with Alan.
Still had some leaves and nature, stowed away, inside,
so we left it there, she and I.
Daddy Grass we called it.
She romped in the river, muddied with her friends,
ran wild, cooked s'mores,
relished in the dirt and freedom.
All hers, all weekend long.

Only thing missing was her dad and his guitar,
would have been nice in the campfire dark.

A week of milestones, right on time,
extra heavy with a dose of Father's Day,
waiting ahead.
Got that Mid-Week-Edge that eventually eased,
it's the approach that fills me with
bluesy musings.
But yesterday she got to show off Adam to her sleep-over friend,
an Almost Dad with just the right vibes.
"He's good at things" I heard her say as they vanished into her room.

And later last night as I was turning out the lights
in zoomed a ladybug that landed on our wall ~

Had to shake my head with sweet surprise,
rarely a no-show on days like these.
Not sure how he does it but once again,
He did.
Made me want to wake up Lily,
whisper Daddy was here for a quick hello.
But two girls down is no small feat,
so I'll tell her tonight that